


Never Grow Up

by JamesDeanPrincess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby Sam Winchester, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Gen, No Wincest, Other, Pre-Stanford Era (Supernatural), Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Leaves for Stanford, Stanford Era (Supernatural), Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Sam Winchester, Weechesters, Young Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:33:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22014931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesDeanPrincess/pseuds/JamesDeanPrincess
Summary: Based on Taylor Swift's Never Grow Up, this follows snapshots in the life of young Sam Winchester as he grows up, and Dean and John grow older around him.Sam can't wait to grow up and get out of the "house," as all children do, but the adults in his life wish he wouldn't be in such a hurry.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Never Grow Up

**Author's Note:**

> Yes most of my writings are inspired by music. Don't hate! I'm just appreciating art in all its forms and filling the internet with as many Sam fan fictions as possible ;p

It was November 3rd, 1984, exactly one year after Mary’s death. John was asleep on the motel couch, an empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the floor in front of him. He put Dean to bed before the whiskey, but not before the tears. “Daddy, I miss Mommy.” he whispered in his sleep-filled haze at the end of _Goodnight Moon_. Setting the book down and kissing Dean on the forehead, John whispered, “Me too, buddy.” 

After he was sure Dean was out, John poured himself the first glass of the night and looked into the Pack-N-Play that made up the 18-month-old Sam’s bed. The only sounds in the room were the sweet rhythms of his sons’ breathing, and John wiped away a tear. Gently, he brushed his thumb against Sam’s cheek, and his eyelids fluttered and he smiled in his sleep. He would’ve picked him up, but Mary had always scolded John for bothering the boys when they were out. 

“They’re content, John, just let them be.” she’d say. In all fairness, he did usually wake them up. 

Downing his whiskey and pouring another glass, John continued to watch his youngest son sleep, thinking about all the great milestones Mary was missing. Sam’s first steps, which were just a few days ago, the first time he sat up on his own, his first tooth, his first words. John did a pretty good job of writing these down in his journal. He figured half baby book, half monster hunting book wasn’t a _terrible_ compromise. 

Two more glasses, and John had abandoned the actual drinkware in favor of pulling straight from the bottle. Even in his drunken state, he knew he should go to bed. But Sam just looked so perfect sleeping in his makeshift crib. He looked perfect all the time, really. His little swirl of brown hair, the way he giggled at everything, the way he grabbed John’s finger and tried to eat it when he was holding him. 

John would give anything if he could keep Sam from the pain he was feeling now. He’d sell his soul--not that John fully understood exactly what that meant yet-- to keep Sam safe and happy and free from the hardships of this cruel world. 

He took these thoughts and a picture of Mary with him to bed, the one after their third date when she was laughing at a joke he told, and polished off the bottle of Jack unceremoniously. Face first in the questionable motel couch, he dreamed of his family back together, stuck forever in a perfect moment in time where his children stayed little and sweet, perfectly unmarred by pain.

**//**

“Please _please_ just ask if I can go, Dean! I know he’ll say yes if you ask!” Sam pleaded with his older brother. 

“You know the deal, Sammy, we’re in the middle of a case. I don’t even get to go out with hot chicks when we’re workin’ a case.” an 18-year-old Dean was sat at the coffee table cleaning all of the guns per his dad’s request, meanwhile Sam had just come home from school and had apparently been asked out on a date. The problem stood that Sam was on research duty for most of their cases, and they were in town for a probable ghost hunt. There was no way John would agree to Sam abandoning his post to go out for the night. 

“Dean, _please._ ” Sam implored, his eyes in full puppy dog mode. “I’ll spend all day tomorrow doing research ‘cause it’s a Saturday and I won’t stop until you and Dad have enough to salt and burn the bones. I’ll do your laundry for a week, and I’ll never ask to go to the movies with a girl or with anyone ever again. I swear.”

Dean sighed and set down the slide he’d been boring for the last ten minutes. “Two weeks.” he said, standing to grab the phone and dial John’s number.

“Deal! Thank you, Dean! Thank you thank you thank you!” Sam scrambled to gather all the dirty clothes and the box of detergent while he waited for his dad’s answer. When Dean hung up, Sam stood there with his hands balled up in his pockets, almost vibrating with anticipation. “So?” he asked.

“You take the cell phone and keep it on you the whole time. You call me when you’re done. You _only_ go to the movies and _nowhere_ else. And you’re on book duty at six am sharp tomorrow until the hunt’s over. No exceptions.” Dean relayed his dad’s message to his younger brother.

“ _Yes!_ ” Sam nearly tackled Dean in a hug, which he returned with a smile and an eye roll. 

“She better be cute, Sammy, I mean it. Oh, and I have to pick you up and drop you off.” 

“ _What?_ Come on…” 

“Them’s the rules, little brother. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine… Could you drop me off around the block?”

“No way, kiddo. I have to capture photographic evidence of your first date for posterity’s sake. ‘Cause you’ll probably never get another one.” Dean teased.

“Shut up.” Sam said, grabbing the laundry and walking out the door.

Sam spent an hour doing and redoing his hair, picking out a nice shirt, and then a different shirt, and brushed his teeth and applied deodorant three times. He was rushing Dean out the door at 7:03 so he could be there early enough to get the good seats. “Dude, you don’t wanna be there too early, it looks desperate. And a little creepy.” Dean told him, grabbing the keys to the Impala anyway. 

“Well I don’t wanna be late, she might think I’m standing her up.” Sam adjusted his hair one more time. 

“No, she won’t. The theater’s ten minutes away and the movie starts at 7:30.” Dean put his shoes on, rolling his eyes at his brother’s impatience. He was always a little anal retentive about time.

“It starts at 7:20, and we have to have time to get popcorn and pick our seats.” Sam opened the motel door.

“I drive fast.” Dean winked and walked out to the car.

On the way to the theater, Dean gave Sam plenty of pointers, some of which Sam really didn’t ask for. “Always open the door for her, buy her ticket and snacks, tell her she looks beautiful when you see her. Hold the popcorn in your lap so she can reach over for it, if ya know what I mean.”

Sam shook his head.

“If it’s going well, she’ll shoot ya a few signals. Lookin’ at you outta the corner of her eye, movin’ closer, things like that. If she does that, act like you’re yawning and then caaasually stretch out your arm and put it around her. Trust me, chicks dig that.”

“Okay, Dean, I get it.” 

“And remember, no glove, no love.” 

“Dean!” Sam felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He hated that he had to have his stupid brother drive him to a date. Although it was probably better than his dad driving him. He just wished that he could drive, or walk, or not have to ask permission to go out with a girl or with his friends. Not that that happened very often anyway. But regardless, Sam was tired of being treated like a kid all the time. He was fourteen, for Christ’s sake! That’s almost an adult! That’s two years away from being able to drive, four years away from being able to smoke and vote and join the army and live on his own. Seven years from being old enough to buy alcohol and in some states rent a car. If you think about it, it’s really not that long. But at the same time, it felt so far away. Sam couldn’t wait to grow up. 

They pulled up to the movies, and Sam saw his date was just getting out of her parents’ car as well, her hair was curled and she looked gorgeous in her white and pink sundress. He made a mental note to tell her that if he could remember to speak. 

“That her?” Dean asked.

“Yeah.” Sam replied without taking his eyes off her. 

Dean shook his head and smiled at his smitten little brother, taking a twenty out of his wallet and handing it to Sam. 

“I have money.” Sam said.

“Just in case. Plus, this way you can get the good candy.” 

Sam opened the door to get out of the car, and Dean called out “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“ _Dean!_ ” Sam whispered, mortified.

Dean just laughed. “Have fun, kiddo. And call me as soon as you’re done!”

“I will.” Sam shut the door and walked up to his date, who smiled when she saw him. 

“Ah, young love.” Dean said to himself, waiting till after they were inside to put the car in drive and peel out of the parking lot. 

As he drove back to the motel, he thought about the time when Sam was six and _Smooth Criminal_ by Michael Jackson had just come out, and he listened to it every day for a month. Any time it was on the radio he begged Dean to turn it up. One morning when he was in the bathroom getting ready for school, Dean saw him dancing to it in that shameless way that little kids dance, and he cracked up laughing at the memory. 

He knew Sam was in a hurry to grow up and get out of the proverbial house and be an adult, and Dean was too at that age. But even at 18 he knew adulthood was a different beast, and he wished he was a kid again, back in school and free of worry. He had to grow up fast after… well, Dean really didn’t want to think about that. But Sam didn’t, and Dean just wanted him to enjoy life as a kid and a teen before the Adulthood Stick came and whacked him hard upside the head, hard.

Sam had never had his heart broken, he’d never had the unfortunate experience of waking up in a puddle of his own puke with a killer headache, he’d never wrecked a car or been betrayed by a friend, or anyone for that matter. He had a lot of time to learn these hard lessons, and Dean didn’t see why he should be in any hurry to get there. The biggest things Sam had to worry about were getting research done for their cases and passing his finals. Though the latter was definitely never a big deal to Dean. He dropped out halfway through his senior year so he could help his dad on hunts.

In his reminiscent state of mind, Dean almost wanted to tell Sam to stop and memorize everything about their life, as shitty as he thought it was. There would be a last time they’d ever hear John’s keys jingle against the door (or doors, as it were), a last time they had to share a bed, a last “family road trip,” even a last fight. 

Dean swallowed thick realization down as he pulled into the motel parking lot. As unorthodox as their little family was, one day it would be no more, and Dean knew he would think back and miss that. Sam would too, even if he didn’t see it now. 

He went inside and told his dad he loved him, and resumed his work of cleaning all the guns to the point of passing military inspection as he waited for Sam to call him after the movie was over. He was pretty excited to hear about his baby brother’s first date. 

**//**

Sam got off the bus and set foot on his college campus for the first time. It was huge, and Sam was glad they were kind enough to include a map in their Welcome to Stanford packet. He arrived ten minutes early for the tour, even with the spotty bus schedule, and jotted down notes along the way about where his classes were, the best coffee stands, and the nearest bookstore to his dorm. 

At the end of the day he walked up three flights of stairs and found his room, opening the door to find that his new roommate was already inside. “Hi, I’m Brady.” he reached out his hand to Sam, who took it tentatively at first. But Brady smiled at Sam, and Sam smiled back, returning the firm handshake with one of his own. 

Over the course of the next few hours of unpacking, the boys started to bond a little over music and classes, and Sam had the feeling that, despite all his nerves, this was going to be a good year. 

Sam put down the class schedule and itineraries he’d been studying for the past two hours at 11:45, shutting off his desk lamp and getting into bed. The mattress felt weird, even weirder than the motel mattresses he’d been sleeping on his whole life. Brady didn’t snore like Dean did, which was good, he supposed. 

The window in the dorm was right next to Sam’s head, and the orange glow from the streetlight was in his eye. He turned and faced the wall, trying to get some sleep before his early day tomorrow. Pulling the new, plastic-smelling twin comforter up to his chin, Sam closed his eyes and pretended for just a moment that he was in a new motel in a new town, and it was Dean sleeping on the other bed across the room. 

He wished he hadn’t left off with him the way he did. He wished he hadn’t left off with his dad the way he did, but at the same time, those things needed to be said. And Sam needed to be here, at Stanford, making his own way in the world and trying to live a normal life. Still his throat felt tight as he remembered lighting fireworks with Dean, and dinner at Bobby’s, and the few times John took them to those wrestling matches. 

Sam’s first day of college was bittersweet. It was the end of an era, and the beginning of a new, better one. But for tonight, and tonight only, he decided, he wished he’d never grown up.


End file.
